More than a Mistress(21)

"Explain what? I'm here to buy this place. Didn't your lawyers tell that to you?"

"You? Buy Peregrine? You might have fooled my attorneys, but you can't fool me. What are you really doing here?"

Travis fought back the desire to take Alex in his arms and kiss that  haughty look from her face. He'd imagined this scene over and over.  Sometimes, she'd flown into his arms the second she saw him; in another  version, she'd launched herself across the room and tried to scratch out  his eyes.

What he hadn't anticipated was that she'd look at him as if he were  something beneath contempt, or that she'd be even more beautiful than he  remembered. He felt the stir of his body, looked at the disdain in her  expression, and knew that nothing had changed.

Realizing it made him angry. Angry at himself, angry at her. No, anger  didn't quite cut it. Fury was a better word, but he'd be damned if he  was going to let her know it.

"What do you mean, what am I doing here?" he said calmly. He leaned back  against the wall and tucked his hands into the back pockets of his  jeans. "I'm here to talk about buying a vineyard."

"And the moon is made of green cheese."

"Is it?" he said pleasantly. "I've always wondered."

Alex drew herself up. "Look, I don't know how you managed to fool my attorneys into thinking you were really interested in-"

"I am," he said.

Her smile was icy. "You're interested in buying a vineyard?"

"Well, no. Not exactly."

"But you thought nothing of lying to my people, of dragging me up here on a fool's errand-"

"I represent Baron Enterprises."

"Baron Enter..."

She blinked, and a flush rose in her cheeks. Damn, it was good to see her take the first step toward a plate filled with crow.

"That's right," Travis said coolly. He took out his wallet, extracted a  business card and held it out. "I'm a partner in the firm of Sullivan,  Cohen and Vittali. I represent my father, Jonas Baron, who wants to buy  your vineyard."

She took the card. Her eyes flashed from its heavy engraving to him, and  Travis felt a curl of satisfaction in his belly as that disdainful look  was replaced by confusion.

"You're an attorney?"

"Yes. I specialize in corporate law." He smiled, leaned away from the  wall and folded his arms over his chest. "Perhaps you recognize the name  of my firm."

She did. It was a law firm with a reputation and influence the equal of the one that represented her.

"And-and you say your father..."

"Is interested in buying this vineyard." Travis strolled past her, to  the open door, and stepped onto the porch. "Maybe I should say he was  interested."                       
       
           



       

Alex swung around and looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Only that from what I've seen so far, I'm not inclined to recommend he continue with the purchase."

Those were the last words she'd expected to hear, and she couldn't keep her surprise from showing.

"Why not?"

"Do you know anything about viniculture?" Her eyes narrowed. "No."

"Well, it's too complicated to explain, but-"

"Don't patronize me," she snapped.

Travis's brows rose. The Princess might not know anything about  wine-making. From what he'd been able to learn during the past week, he  doubted she knew much about half of what she'd inherited. Still, the  tilt of her chin, coupled with that arrogant tone, said she was damned  if she wasn't determined to learn.

Or maybe the only thing she wanted was to give him a hard time. Either  way, it didn't matter. Peregrine Vineyards was a handsome place. It had  charm. It even had possibilities. But it sure as hell wasn't worth the  price her attorney had quoted.

"Well? I'm waiting to hear why my vineyard doesn't meet your high standards, Mr. Baron."

On the other hand, it was worth almost anything to see her eyes flash  that way. Travis tried to look thoughtful as he glanced at his watch.

"I could fill you in on some of my thoughts over an early supper."

"I didn't come here for supper!"

"What did you come here for, then?" He looked up, his gaze noncommittal. "Do you want to sell this vineyard or don't you?"

"You just said there isn't going to be any sale."

Travis couldn't help it; he grinned. "I take it you've never been to Morocco."

Alex looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "What does Morocco have to do with this?"

"And I'll bet you've never been to a flea market, either."

"What on earth are you talking about?" she demanded irritably.

"Whether you've buying a rug in the Casbah, Princess, or a painting of Elvis on velvet at the Swap Meet-"

"A painting on velvet?"

"Yeah. Don't you have one of those, in that castle you call home?"

Alex's eyes met Travis's. He was laughing. She told herself there was  nothing funny happening here but a laugh burst from her throat, anyway.

"No. No, I can't say that I have."

"I can see where your education in the arts has been sadly neglected.  The thing is, the first rule of selling is that you have to convince the  buyer that he absolutely, positively must have the thing you want to  sell him."

Alex smiled. "Ah. Then, I have something you want?"

Travis's smile tilted. "Yeah," he said softly, "you definitely do."

"I meant Peregrine," she said quickly.

"Of course." His tone was bland. "So did I. Well, then. Dinner, Ms. Thorpe?"

She hesitated. Her heart was dancing; she felt as if all the air were  being drawn out of the room. But she'd come here to make a deal, and  what kind of businesswoman would shy away from something so simple as  dinner?

"Certainly," she said, and tried not to think too hard about the tingle  that shot through her as Travis took her elbow and led her from the  farmhouse.



He drove the Porsche too fast.

She'd driven almost this fast only once, a long time ago. It was when  she'd owned a little convertible, a present for her eighteenth birthday  from her father. His secretary had phoned, asking what she wanted as a  gift, and Alex had taken a deep breath and said she'd love a red Miata.  The secretary-a new one, which probably explained how it had happened,  said fine. And, on the day she turned eighteen, the car was in the  driveway with a Happy Birthday card from her from her father.

Within the first month of driving it, she'd gotten a speeding ticket. As  soon as her father found out, the red convertible disappeared and the  first in a long line of big, safe Mercedes had taken its place.

Even that one time she'd pushed the convertible to its limits, she'd never driven as fast as Travis was driving now.

She had no idea what road they were on. It was narrow and curving,  completely unlike the straight, boring highway she'd taken from the  airport in San Francisco. Travis took the turns easily, tucking the  Porsche into the curves so that it held the road as if it was nailed to  it. And on the occasional straight stretches, she saw the speedometer  needle skyrocket.

He glanced over, once, and caught her peering at the dash.

"Is this too fast for you?" he said, and she shook her head and said no,  it was fine, when what she wanted to say was that it was wonderful, and  was it at all possible he'd pull over and switch places with her?

She sat back and folded her hands in her lap.

What was the matter with her, that she got such crazy ideas when she was  around this man? Going to dinner with him, when every instinct screamed  it was a mistake. Yearning to get behind the wheel of his car and stand  on the gas pedal until the car flew for her as it was flying for him.  Doing what she'd done two weeks ago, letting him make love to her,  making love to him when she didn't know him at all, didn't even like  him.                       
       
           



       

Well, maybe she did like him, just a little. He was arrogant, yes. And  too darned sure of himself. But he was all-fire gorgeous. And sexy. He  had a nice sense of humor. And she already knew what a fantastic lover  he was.

Not that she'd ever go to bed with him again. Her one and only one-night  stand was history. Besides, she had about as much in common with Travis  Baron as a sparrow had with a cat.

Alex's pulse quickened.

It was just that cats, especially the big ones, were so beautiful, so lithe, so powerful and so incredibly exciting.

She sat back. Stop that, she told herself, but she knew she was blushing.



What could Alex be thinking, to put that sudden crimson stain on her beautiful cheekbones?

Travis sneaked a quick look at her again, then looked back at the road.

The more he saw of her, the deeper an enigma she became. Her on-and-off  sexuality had almost driven him crazy, but there was more than that  about her that he just couldn't figure out. From what he'd been able to  gather, neither could her lawyers.